


It's Bloody Mental

by Eflauta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eflauta/pseuds/Eflauta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some thoughts on Crowley's thoughts during season 9.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Bloody Mental

It wasn’t so much of a strategy, calling out his name, it was more of an impulse, demanding attention, inviting the torment from the prophet he knew to be wracked still with grief. It was easy, catching him, easy to pull him in, easy to push every button, and oh so easy to make him snap, to make him punch, and yell, and wallop with a hammer, and he marveled at how quickly he had got his response.

Barely 15 minutes from the stop in his footsteps - 16 minutes since the closet had opened, and who knows how long since they’d stuffed him in here - he’d rather lost track of the time. Amid the screaming and the torment as his own mind worked him over, amid the external silence and internal pain, amid all that he ran from inside his own head, he latched on to the first sign of another, and though he’d prefer to have planned it, it was sheer impulse to escape his thoughts and tear into another, to twist them, and turn them, and break them to pieces. It was all that he did, it was all he would do, it was all that he ever had wanted. It was habit, it was longing, it was downright addiction, and not an ounce of him wanted to stop.

Maybe just one ounce.  
One scrape at the black cloud that comprised the being of a demon.  
One glimmer, quickly blotted.  
One doubt, quickly hushed.  
One pause, passed right over.

A hesitation now long gone, that made him question why he did it, why he insisted on torture, why he leapt at the chance, why he would choose to goad the young prophet into torturing him.

Why, after all that he’d done?

No, couldn’t be. It was foolish, he moved on. That part of him was gone, carved out, thrown away, burned in the fires of Hell.

 Not an ounce of him was human.

 

Was it?


End file.
